


The Far End of the Bell Curve

by Ponderosa (ponderosa121)



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Double Knotting, Double Penetration in Two Holes, Harry Hart Lives, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-11 00:39:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12311211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ponderosa121/pseuds/Ponderosa
Summary: It’s too astonishing not to keep coming round to: Harry Hart, who mopped the floor with Dean’s entire crew and who looked him straight in the eye while offering him a chance at being a Kingsman, is anOmega.





	The Far End of the Bell Curve

**Author's Note:**

> So, I started this forever ago because I really wanted to write omega!Harry and DP knotting. Mission accomplished. Follows original movie timeline, then AUs the end. Gratitude to V and everyone else who read bits of this along the way. Apologies for my endless tweaking and any typos or stray commas that have been added back in.

Eggsy’s sat in casualty his fair share--him and his mates have racked up an impressive number of trips to hospital over the years--but perching in the chair at Harry’s bedside is worlds apart from waiting on a bench for the split over Jamal’s eye to be seen to. The medical wing of Kingsman is downright unsettling. It’s underground, same as the majority of the complex, but the smell is all _sorts_ of wrong. Eggsy finds himself tasting the air constantly, searching for a whiff of anything besides the dull hint of soap from Harry’s last blanket bath, or the aged scent of leather and wood from the antique chair that creaks as Eggsy shifts his weight. The chair had appeared a few weeks ago; Merlin’s doing, Eggsy suspects.

He draws in a deep breath and his nose wrinkles. Still nothing. Or close to it.

This whole end of the underground comes off as sterile in a way that has nothing to do with its function. Sure the place isn’t a revolving door in the middle of the city that needs to be wiped down a thousand times a day and scoured with antiseptic because some muppet’s gone and gotten sick all over the floor, but it can't be that the rooms never see a bit of use. There’s a fucking army’s worth of mechanics and armory types, not to mention the computer and science teams, but if Merlin should want to improve the prospects stealth training, he ought look to the nursing staff. Weeks now Eggsy’s been coming down here and he’s only spotted a set of scrubs once.

Who the fuck knows. Maybe support crew get patched up across the hangar and this wing is reserved solely for agents--the total number of which Eggsy remains fuzzy on. Digby and the rest act as if they know everything, but with all the posturing that goes on, there’s no good measure for how much is truth and how much comes from the sorts of stories that make being a spy sound like a dream job.

Staring at the steady rhythm of Harry’s pulse on the heart rate monitor, Eggsy’s got proof right here that even if you make it through training the job doesn’t come without some big fucking risks. Hell, he’d gotten that warning years ago in the form of a medal, a kind word, and a pat on the head.

The vents turn on with a soft hum. The artificial breeze ruffles through Harry’s hair. It's grown out noticeably since the first time Eggsy stood with his stomach in knots at Harry’s bedside; a bit of curl shows in the longest strands that fan across the pillow. Eggsy shifts, wishing the old man would just wake the fuck up. He expects it every time he comes and visits--that at any second Harry’s gonna sit up and stop playing pretend.

Usually when he comes round to visit, Eggsy lingers for only a minute or two, just enough to reassure himself that Harry’s still got a pulse and air in his lungs. There’s few things he hates more than feeling useless, and taking up watch drums up the same hollow ugliness from when he’s sat on the floor with his back to the closet and Dean’s in a mood--when breathing a word means it’ll be worse for him and for his mum. If he’s being honest with himself, this ain’t much better. There isn't even a choice involved. What can he do besides wait and hope?

On the days he sticks around, he reads his training materials aloud in case the sound of his voice helps like it does in the movies, but today Eggsy’s too restless to strike a vigil and study. He keeps himself busy by first brushing Harry’s hair back into place and then, because of course Harry doesn’t have anything so normal as flowers or cards to tidy, he grabs up the chart at the foot of the bed and starts skimming the forms.

Translating the chicken scratch and acronyms takes some time. Eggsy's just getting the hang of it when a read of the third page gives him pause. He frowns, flips to the last in the stack and back to read the section a second time and then again. Can’t be right, he thinks. It’s got to be a mistake--

He registers the whisper of movement from the other side of the door too late. Before he’s had a chance to return the chart with no one the wiser, the latch opens with a soft click and Merlin strolls in. His head’s down, gaze focused on his tablet, but after one glance at Eggsy looking bait, Merlin spots the clipboard and his easy stride comes to an abrupt halt. A low snarl pours out of his throat, deep and menacing. The point of his canine flashes white from below the warning curl of his lip.

Eggsy's pretty good at knowing when he ought to back down from a fight. And even though he rarely does, this…this is _definitely_ one of those times. He breaks eye contact and tips his head to show his neck despite the mad panic growing in his chest that’s only in part due to having been caught red-handed. He waves the records at Merlin, praying he isn't in for it worse when he says: “The doc needs to fix this. It’s messed up.”

Eggsy flips to the next sheet and back again, in case his eyes had been playing tricks on him, but it still has a tick in the wrong box. Just because the organization doesn’t spare any expenses on the equipment doesn’t mean someone can’t fuck up the paperwork.

Merlin closes the distance to snatch the clipboard out of Eggsy's hands. “Medical records are meant to be private,” he says sharply, and tucks the chart back at the foot of Harry’s bed. The burst of aggression fades further as Eggsy continues to show his throat. Merlin slips his hands into his pockets, rounding his shoulders to ease the tension a notch. “It’s there for the staff, not nosy young prospects.”

“But--” the word slips out of Eggsy’s mouth before he can stop it. He’s not sure he would’ve anyway; he can’t make himself back down further, even facing the snarl building up again in Merlin’s chest. “Won’t it fuck with something though? Harry being listed Omega. What if he’s been getting the wrong treatment and that’s why he’s still--”

The faintest hesitation--hardly more than a quiver in Merlin’s breath--cranks Eggsy’s pulse up to eleven, and the near imperceptible shift in scent he picks up drives him a step backwards. That’s fear, the tiniest whiff of it. _Merlin’s_ fear. Eggsy’s hip catches painfully on the bedframe as he looks to Harry. “No,” Eggsy scoffs, disbelieving. He laughs at the absolute absurdity of it. “You’re taking the piss. You mean Harry-- _That_ Harry.”

“A bit of discretion please, Eggsy,” Merlin says, with enough gravity that the smile melts right off Eggsy’s face and takes his color straight away with it.

“Oh my God, but he--”

“He,” Merlin interrupts, “wouldn’t care to have details of his personal life shared around behind his back by an impertinent pup like you.”

“No. No, of course not.” Eggsy hadn’t even considered breathing a word. Who would he tell anyway? Well, maybe Roxy, but certainly none of the other dickheads in the program. Merlin moves closer to the bed, his stance and his posture growing defensive. Eggsy looks again at Harry’s slack face. Christ. “He’s really a breeder, then. Are you and him...?”

Merlin points at the door. “Go.”

“All right, guv, calm down. I ain’t trying to step on any toes here.”

“Out. Now.”

Eggsy leaves with his hands up, backing out slowly and then getting out of there faster than legging it from Dean’s crew. Once in the lift, the nerves start. There's no way that Harry's biotype is common knowledge. If Harry wakes up and finds out he knows the truth, Harry might up and murder him in his sleep.

The fear stink becomes his. It clings to his body, sour and awful. Training here has been the one good opportunity to come his way in a long while. What if Merlin uses this as an excuse to drum him out of the program? What’s he gonna do? Go crawling back on his belly to his mum's and have to tuck tail when Dean makes up for the way he'd run out. Harry’ll not be making any threats on his behalf a second time.

Eggsy’s hasty exit turns into a full-tilt run the moment he’s outside under the open sky. He runs and doesn’t stop, tracing a new route along the grounds as he tries to not fret about disciplinary actions or about that stupid little tick box. Normally a lengthy run like this clears his head and leaves him weightless and elated, but by the time he’s circled round to the treeline with sweat trickling down his spine, his mind’s still buzzing. It’s too astonishing not to keep coming round to: Harry Hart, who mopped the floor with Dean’s entire crew and who looked him straight in the eye while offering him a chance at being a Kingsman, is an _Omega_.

Hands propped on his hips as he paces and catches his breath, Eggsy stares up at the grey of the sky. It’s not like it actually changes anything, he tells himself at first, ‘cause it doesn’t make him think less of Harry. If anything it's the opposite. It’s near impossible to earn respect as an Omega, let alone convince the world you’re good for anything beyond popping out babies or caring after them.

Eggsy doubles over, still not quite able to catch his breath because as remarkable as it may be--as impressive--it _does_ fundamentally change things: Ever since that day in the pub he’s been having a fucking crisis of identity, having himself more than one desperate wank at the idea of being bent over the nearest surface, bitten hard, and getting wrecked by Harry’s fat knot.

*

Eventually Eggsy tells Roxy. Or rather he tells her the part about knotting that makes him feel like a dirty fucking pervert.

“If you’re merely curious, prosthetics are widely available,” she says, turning another pair of clay pigeons into a cloud of bright pink dust. She looks at him sidelong, one perfect eyebrow arching upward as she reloads the gun. “There are plenty of dildos that swell like the real thing. Some even gush up to a half litre. They’re not only for women who enjoy phallically tying Omegas, you know. And while it wouldn’t be a legitimate tie obviously, it might, um, satisfy the craving.”

The blush burns all the way to the tips his ears. “Yeah, uh, thanks Rox. I’m sorry I said anything.”

She shrugs and swings her gun back up to the ready. “Well I’m not. It’s best that we trust one another, isn’t it? I suppose biotype roleplay or engaging in some mentor-student fantasy isn’t addressing the real problem though, is it,” she says, echoing Eggsy’s own thoughts as she fires. This time before reloading, she lays a hand on Eggsy’s arm. The empathy on her face makes him nearly as uncomfortable as spilling his kinky little secret. “I’m sure he’ll recover soon, Eggsy.”

That at least one other person counts Harry’s recovery as a when and not an if makes him feel a touch better. He sputters another word or two of gratitude and wishes he could simply turn into a cloud of dust right now too.

Instead he settles cross-legged in the grass and pulls JB into his lap while Roxy switches from a side-by-side to a semi-auto. Eggsy’s a fair hand with a rifle and a sight, but she’s far better with a shotgun than he is. It’s a joy to watch her shoot. She’s got a natural eye for quick moving targets and a predator’s efficiency, not to mention a tireless determination that he can relate to. It’d been sheer stubbornness that had gotten Eggsy through six months of Basic with a bunch of other Alphas taller and heavier than himself.

Wasn’t so much different here really, bit more dangerous--well, a lot more--but in the Marines all the posh types went for officer training. Here it’s been satisfying as hell to rub the others’ snobby fucking noses in it whenever he receives better marks. She might be well-bred but he knows Roxy feels the same way whenever it's her showing up the rest.

Eggsy breathes out a slow sigh. It’d be nice if he could ring his mum. He’d like to make sure she and the little one are doing all right. He misses the baby loads--her chubby hands and the way she giggles when picked up and spun around. He lifts up JB in front of his face and dodges an enthusiastic lick to the nose. It’s not the same, even if it does make him smile. Eggsy loves carrying the baby about, and she absolutely adores being held, but Dean’s always quick to puff up and shout about who it is that sired her or make snide comments about whether or not Eggsy would rather be carrying a baby on the inside.

Gently, Eggsy sets JB back into the grass.

It ain’t normal, he knows; he ain’t built right for it, not like Harry, or even Roxy, who if she really wanted could take the meds to get pregnant. If she weren't holding a gun, he might consider asking whether or not she’s ever considered having kids and bearing them herself. Bit of a trend that, amongst upper class Alphas.

Instead, he lays flat on his back, puts a hand on his belly, and frets about what it’ll be like when Harry eventually does wake up.

*

Consciousness returns to Harry in slow waves. There isn't any pain, but there's rather a lot of confusion. His senses are muddled, feeding him his surroundings in drips and drabs.

He's safe, he knows immediately, and recognizes the gentle tug of fingers combing through his hair. He doesn't have the control over his body to smile at the touch.

Later he can sense Merlin in the room, and the tone of his voice that says concern although none of the sounds coalesce into words. There's another voice too, higher in register, that digs through the swaddled layers of his confusion--Eggsy, he remembers, and then Harry can pick up his scent too, not here in the room presently, but the faint, sweet reminder of him.

 _How fortunate I am,_ Harry thinks, floating somewhere outside his own body for a time. How blessed to have one good man at his back and another who might join him at his side.

When finally he comes to, eyes cracking open and the first full breath in his lungs a pleasurable miracle, he discovers Eggsy asleep in the chair beside him, his head tipped back and mouth dropped open. It's hardly an angelic sight, but it is a welcome one. Utilizing far too much effort for the reward, Harry stretches a hand out, the extent of his reach allowing his fingertips to just brush Eggsy's sleeve. The boy’s hair is long enough to require a comb, which means Harry’s been in hospital for some time now.

Still fast asleep, Eggsy's breathing deepens. The near imperceptible tension in his forehead eases at a second touch.

“Miss me?” Harry says, a croaking whisper that's enough to cause Eggsy to stir.

"Yes, Harry," Eggsy murmurs before he's even properly come to.

How very fortunate, Harry thinks again before closing his eyes and letting Eggsy deal with scrambling to call the nurse.

*

It’s been two days since Harry first came to, and in the middle of a lecture on geography in relation to Kingsman influence, messages pop up on Eggsy’s tablet: _Harry is ready to entertain visitors. He would like to see you._ Eggsy’s bolt upright in his chair when another pops up to say: _You may visit after class._

The news wrecks his concentration and since they aren't allowed any scent dampeners, he can’t help but broadcast his excitement to everyone around him. Sniffing the air from all the way across the fucking room, Charlie glances his way with a puzzled, wary expression. Eggsy tries to at least keep his body language in check. He may want to drop everything and go rushing over there, but he’s only got one shot at Kingsman. If Harry’s all right, he tells himself, waiting an hour to pop in will be also.

Still, he’s gripping his pen nearly hard enough to snap it in two until they’re dismissed. On the way out the door, Roxy throws him a sly look that suggests she has an idea what he’s on edge about. He’s got an anxious stink on him now, drawing the others to close rank in the hallway. Eggsy readies himself for a brawl as they size him up and show teeth, the overwhelming smell of their eagerness threaded through with uncertainty. Posturing, mostly. Untip Charlie shoves his way to the front of the pack, clearly getting ready to demand to know what's going on when Roxy jostles him hard enough to get his attention to swing to her. The others’ follow suit, honing in on the more immediate and unexpected challenge. Eggsy silently thanks Roxy as he ducks his head to present a smaller target and backs away. He swears to himself he'll make it up to her somehow. His hackles are still up as she gives Charlie a toothy grin, but he's not so stupid that he doesn’t scoop JB up under one arm and take the chance he’s been given to escape.

He’s also not so dull that he doesn’t realize Roxy’s his only real competition in the lot. It gives him fucking ulcers whenever he stops to think how there’s only one seat at the table, though right now he’s more worried about Harry than anything. Eggsy sets JB back down as he keys into the medical ward and then pauses on his toes because this time the air is a little less sterile.

The scent is faint, but it puts Eggsy on alert regardless.

Training here isn’t always lectures, and challenges aren’t always tests of marksmanship or tradecraft. Like the business with the water on the first night, from top to bottom there are loads of differences between training for Kingsman and training to be a Marine.

In the military, first off, every branch of service has a mix of biotypes and all non-Beta personnel are strictly dosed for heat suppression or heat aversion. Eggsy had trained alongside plenty of Omegas, and while those that’d been destined to make it through pretty much never landed a combat role, there’d been all types.

In Kingsman, every prospect and all the personnel he’s met have been unquestionably Alphas, and there’ve been absolutely no chemical safety nets. Willpower and flawless manners are expected to be enough to see you through. Anyone who can’t control themselves around a heat can’t very well be allowed in the field and already two candidates have been weeded out by falling for Omega honeypots.

It’s half what Eggsy expects when he touches the latch of Harry’s room and the musky scent leaks out--a heat that’s rich and sweet in layers like cloves. His hand tightens on JB’s lead. He hadn’t really considered it until now, but the chart he’d seen weeks ago could’ve been faked, the pheremones turning his mouth wet could have been mixed in Merlin’s lab. This could all be a test of perception or deception.

But when he pushes open the door fully and it’s Harry alone in the room, up and alert, clean-shaven and dressed in a robe tied neatly over a fresh set of pyjamas, Eggsy stops worrying about tick boxes and trials. The only thing that matters is Harry Hart gazing at him as if Eggsy’s the one that’s needed looking after.

“Ever heard of knocking?” Harry asks, and it’s like all those long months of him being comatose never happened.

Eggsy restrains himself, though he wants to rush over and pull Harry into a hug. He wants to run his hands over Harry to feel with his own two hands that he's okay. He holds himself back somewhat, nearly bouncing on his toes as Harry sizes him up. His restlessness bleeds into JB, who surprises Eggsy in taking a command from Harry like it’d come directly from him. Cheeky little traitor.

They hardly have any time to do more than share a smile before Merlin shows up, takes one look at him and says, “Eggsy, you’re dismissed,” as he goes to hand Harry some sort of form.

Eggsy doesn’t make a move to leave, because surely the invitation to see Harry had come via Merlin. Unless this is meant to be a convenient demonstration to clear up any thoughts Eggsy might’ve been having about Harry’s status. If anyone is Harry’s mate, Merlin’s a solid bet.

But looking between them, it’s near impossible to figure out if the two are bonded. Neither of them display the sorts of behaviors Eggsy knows to look for. They’re casual in one another’s space, but while Merlin'sgot mother hen written all over him, he isn’t doing anything like putting himself between Eggsy and Harry like the last time. And Harry’s posture hadn’t changed at all with Merlin’s approach. They interact like peers, and even with the way Harry smells right now he doesn’t seem the least bit agitated having a second Alpha in the room with him. Eggsy on the other hand needs to subtly adjust himself, a fresh surge of blood going to his cock as his body instinctively anticipates a challenge--and the resulting win.

“Let him stay. A minute or two more anyway. I did have you ask him here.”

“Very well,” Merlin says, not sounding particularly keen about it. Eggsy’s come to suspect that Merlin’s approval is a hard thing to win. “That last shot was your final dose. If we’re lucky we’ve caught it in time and you won’t go--" Merlin shoots a weighted glance at Eggsy. "You won't experience a full heat.”

“How is it you ain’t too old for that?” Eggsy blurts out.

Merlin covers a choke with an unconvincing cough and JB leaps back to his feet, his lead jingling.

“I might be on the far end of the bell curve, but I assure you I still have a few cycles left in me, Eggsy,” Harry says calmly. He turns to Merlin to add, “I’ll need a few more sanitary towels if the dose doesn’t take hold or merely causes a delay.”

Eggsy takes a turn choking on his own spit. It seems wrong to hear Harry so mildly discuss his state. But of course he’d be tidy about it, not just letting his heatwet run down his legs like some nasty slag.

“Of course,” Merlin says. “I’ll prepare your bag.”

Harry slings a hip against the foot of the bed as he returns the form to Merlin, and the scent of his heat curls around them. Eggsy's mouth goes from drooling to bone dry to flooded again. It hits him--really cuts into the core of him--that if this isn’t a joke or a test, it means that right at this moment Harry Hart is dripping into his shorts and aching to get fucked.

“I should really go,” Eggsy says. There’s no hiding the thick swell of his cock now, though he tries his best by holding the end of JB’s lead with both hands in front of him. “Glad to have you back, Harry.”

He grimaces after the words come tumbling out of his mouth. It’s rude to speak possessively about an Omega, but this is a special circumstance, and one he’s going to have to learn how to deal with. It’s not that he’s bad at lying, the opposite really, it’s more that he’s not certain how he’s meant to act around Harry now. Merlin seems to find it somewhat humorous, a sentiment that Harry also seems to share. It could be that they really are bonded and share that sort of pair-sense.

Eggsy tries to excuse himself again, but he doesn't get out of the room for another five minutes, since for once he’s the one with the latest news and it’s too good not to share. But after dropping what he knows about Valentine, as the thrill of besting Merlin on that front fades, a measuring glance from Harry nearly undoes him. JB’s leash creaks he puts such a tight grip on it. Eggsy manages to slip out before breaking into light panting breaths.

But he can still taste Harry out in the hallway, and the scent clings to him all the way to the washroom near the lift. Bracing himself in a stall, he claws open his trousers.

Eggsy turns his head and bites at the thick wool of his lapel, thinking about the last Omega he’d tied and how needy she’d been in the throes. What would it even be like to see Harry in a full-blown heat? _Fuck._ What if Harry’s the needy type too, all snarling for more when he's pinned down and filled up--that perfect poise gone to shit as he hungers to be bred…. And then there’s Merlin, who can just fucking stand there like it's nothing to have that scent around him--

Fleetingly Eggsy thinks of Merlin the way he normally pictures Harry: with a broad hand on the nape of his neck, hard cock at the small of his back, and hot breath in his ear promising to tie him so thick he won't be able to walk straight for days. 

He gasps. The taste of Harry's scent still lingering is enough to trigger his own knot to swell a bit under his fist. He rubs one out frantically, his teeth clamped around the mouthful of wool, and wishes for the first time in his life that he could initiate a bond. If he could, he’d turn around and go do it right now. He’d claim Harry Hart for a mate without a second thought.

A few cycles left means he could give Harry at least one beautiful baby. And surely Harry wouldn't care if Eggsy minded the feeding and the rest.

*

Harry lets out a disappointed sigh and leans back in the chair Merlin had made appear, a twin to the one Merlin himself is perched in, eagerly, as if they were enjoying a football match instead of monitoring this final field test. If only Eggsy had ceased drinking after the first sip when he’d noticed the taste was off. If he had, he might’ve been only the third trainee on record to not fall for such a simple ploy.

“Your boy almost got it,” Merlin says, peering at the monitors as all three final prospects go toppling into unconsciousness. He claps his hands together, likely having won some sort of wager amongst the crew. “Almost, but not quite.”

“Phase two, then,” Harry murmurs.

Abruptly Merlin’s nose twitches, and he looks towards Harry. “That confident, are you?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Whatever do you mean…,” Merlin repeats drolly. “I know you well enough that I can recognize that scent, Harry. You’re certain you’ll be taking him home tonight.”

Harry’s pulse jumps despite all attempts to the contrary to remain as calm as possible. Of course he’s certain. Eggsy’s already passed this test once, and while facing down a far more personal adversary. And now, well, Eggsy’s seen him at the onset of a heat. Harry’s fairly certain that complication means Eggy would do just about anything to keep Harry safe. A faint tingle seizes him low in the belly and a fresh mix of unease, pride, and desire sends Merlin glancing his way again.

At times Merlin's watchfulness is burdensome, but Harry puts up with it regardless. And not just for the occasional hard dicking. He's a great deal more fond of Merlin than he cares to let on. Comes with the territory he supposes. Allowing oneself to be repeatedly vulnerable with an Alpha naturally leads to a certain intimacy.

Merlin takes a long sip of his tea, clearly attempting to unravel the mixed messages Harry bleeds into the air. He seems miffed that he can’t pinpoint the bitter underlayer beneath Harry’s more strongly telegraphed responses, though as always, Harry feels as if it should be obvious. “Well, in the event that he does succeed,” Merlin says, “all I ask is for you to be cautious. The shots definitely won’t take if you’re determined to let the boy mount you. And in your own home, for pete’s sake. Risky stuff.”

“Don’t be crass.”

“I’m simply being practical. You got far enough along it’s going to be difficult resisting the need to nest, and if he pushes don’t tell me you won’t fold. Drugs aren’t foolproof and he’s a good looking, virile young man.”

Harry is well aware, but he also has faith that Eggsy isn’t the type of Alpha to willingly take advantage of the situation. He wouldn’t have made it this far if he were.

As Percival’s prospect sails through her test and Eggsy is dragged out to be tied at the wrists and ankles, it’s Harry’s turn to look askance at Merlin. “Simply being practical...,” Harry repeats, a touch of snideness entering his tone. “You’re as worried about him as I am, you big softie.”

Merlin tries to bury his face in his mug despite there not being a drop of tea left in the bottom. “You might as well just open the bottle,” Harry says, and slides open Merlin’s desk drawer. He triggers the false bottom and pulls out the scotch.

On the monitor Eggsy is given an antidote and begins to come to. Merlin’s scent changes and he silently pours himself a glass. 

Reviewing footage of the other training exercises, Harry had observed Eggsy exhibiting bursts of fear but primarily remaining level-headed, too busy figuring out how to save his--or everyone’s--skin to panic. With his skull aching and his teammates missing, he struggles frantically against his bonds, clearly going out of his mind. Harry remembers that feeling like it was yesterday: the awful disorientation coupled with the ugly worry of having no idea where your pack is or if they’re all right.

Swallowing down those unpleasant memories, Harry rises to his feet and tidies his appearance. “Well, best I get up there.”

“Go on then,” Merlin says. The sharp edge to his scent and his close-lipped nod as the door to the lift opens says what’s left unspoken, a cascade of emotion that distills down to: _Don’t you dare let the young man knot you, Harry Hart._

He doesn’t of course, because he might be a bit of a slut, but he’s also a fucking gentleman, and then as luck would have it everything goes to shit in Kentucky.

*

Eggsy can’t shut Harry’s laptop any faster. It doesn’t help the scene replaying in his own skull. He can’t pretend that he didn’t just see Harry murder dozens of people and then get taken down just like that by a single shot.

Throat raw and biting back a howl, he drifts aimlessly around Harry's house for what feels like ages. He’d never wanted a mate before. Never even _dreamed_ of wanting one, and then Harry had to come strolling into his life like some kind of fairy tale prince. Eggsy lingers on the stair. He can’t quite think straight from the shock, and with Harry’s scent sunk thick into every surface, from the clawing desire that it triggers with no hope of an outlet.

When the chain of events leads him back to Kingsman--to Merlin--some of the simmering anger and hurt subsides. He’s not the only one who’d seen what happened, who’s still staggered by the loss, and being side-by-side again with Roxy is so good and right. They’re pack, she and him, and the world needs saving. Protecting his mum and the baby and all those millions of innocent people is more important than licking his wounds and wishing for miracles. The more he holds to that belief like an anchor, the clearer his head becomes, and the more ready he is to look Merlin in the eye and not feel like he’s failed.

Tasting the air doesn’t imply that Merlin thinks anything of the sort, but the last things Harry’d said to him sit like hooks in his belly. It isn’t until he’s staring at his reflection wearing the suit Harry had them make for him that he’s able to stand up straight and tall. With this, he’ll always belong to Harry and a bit of Harry will always belong to him.

Upon seeing him, Merlin hesitates for a moment then lays a hand on his shoulder. It's a gesture he hadn't even second-guessed coming from Harry, but from Merlin is hard not to read into. Maybe it carries a bit of dominance in it, or a bit of paternal care, or maybe it's simply an acknowledgment of Eggsy's emotional state. Whatever it is, Eggsy dips his head in acceptance and Merlin's hand slips away.

A modern gentleman’s armor, Harry had said, and now Eggsy’s ready for battle.

He’s ready to rip the throat out of Valentine and out of every damn one of the bastards responsible for taking Harry away from him.

*

Eggsy hears the slap strike his cheek before he feels it. A second, harder smack and a, “C’mon now, wake up,” forces his eyes open to the shine of Merlin’s forehead.

“I’m awake,” Eggsy says, flailing to get his limbs working under his control again. “I’m awake!” One of the carved out hallways of Valentine’s lair stretches in front of him. At the far end where it forks, a scatter of bullet casings surround the bodies of fallen henchmen. Eggsy blinks as the floor tilts, the world spinning around one last time before settling back into place.

With the way his suit jacket is tugged up uncomfortably under his arms, Merlin must’ve been dragging him for some distance. Eggsy shakes his arms to loosen the pinch before he heaves himself up to his feet. Merlin assists, as does the wall.

“Thanks.”

“You gave me a scare. After Valentine expired, you made it about four steps before you went crashing down.” Concern etches a deep line between the straight dark slashes of Merlin’s brows. “I worried you’d been dosed with something.”

Eggsy gives his head a shake to test it. No spinning this time. “Everything seems all right,” he says, though he is feeling a bit odd. The adrenaline of the fight is gone, as is the anger that’d been fueling him. Even the ache he’s been carrying seems tempered. He feels almost euphoric. Maybe Merlin’s right about something getting into his system, but it doesn't seem like it merits concern.

“Good. Let’s get out of here.” Merlin starts briskly down the hallway.

After a quick scramble to catch up with that damnably long stride, Eggsy shakes off the sensation and falls into step beside him. “What about the prisoners?” he asks, gesturing at the doors where an increasing number of people plea for help. The cries tug at the heart of him, and he spins around as they approach another intersection, torn with indecision as Merlin marches on. His pulse races. “Shouldn’t we be letting people out?”

“They’ll have to wait."

"But--"

"Take a breath. Slower. Slower! Take a proper breath and taste it. There you are. Every Omega in here is in heat or on the cusp,” Merlin says, and Eggsy notices then how his eyes are dark as fuck, his hand white-knuckled on the strap of his rifle. “Neither of us is equipped to deal with an evacuation on this scale.”

With every new inhale Eggsy doesn't know how he got two steps without recognizing what was around him. He'd shut it out when he'd been on mission, but now-- No wonder he’s feeling euphoric. A full-body shiver hooks raw and hungry into his hindbrain. A half-dozen heats ride the air, a heady mix of lust and need. Merlin hadn't been exaggerating in the least. "Okay. Yeah, all right,” he says, teeth grit to determinedly push on.

Merlin goes right and Eggsy turns left, positive it's the quicker route. The place may look like a maze, but he's got the layout down now.

“This way,” Merlin urges him. “Hurry up, Eggsy.”

“That'll take twice as long,” he says, and takes off down the corridor. He passes two cells before he’s stopped dead in his tracks--

The deep musky scent hits him like a wall. The air here is full of it: a heavy, masculine heat that carries a sweetness Eggsy can't mistake. Merlin catches up and Eggsy can't even turn to look at him. His shoes are bolted to the floor, his legs gone leaden, all his muscles rigid.

Merlin grabs his arm and tries to pull him back but Eggsy rips free of the hold. He isn’t wrong--can’t be when that scent has been burned into his memory. Discovering Harry Hart was an Omega hadn't been a forgettable occurrence, and Eggsy's hands tremble as he pops the bolt on the viewing slot of the nearest cell door and opens it. 

His hands flatten against the metal of the door, fingers stretched to their limit as his heart races. What he really wants is to press his whole body against it, to lean against the steel until it gives way. “Merlin!” he cries, “Fuck me, it’s Harry. It’s Harry and he’s alive.” The _how_ doesn't worry him. It doesn't even enter his mind because Harry is right here, gloriously and miraculously breathing. Harry's hair is mussed and falling across his forehead, sweat turning it to clumps and curling strands. He looks half-wild and dangerous like he had in the middle of all the carnage in that church. The front of his shirt hangs open, the center line of his chest bare and gleaming with sweat.

Merlin hauls Eggsy back by the scruff of his neck and slams shut the viewing slot. He engages the bolt and shifts his hold to Eggsy's shirtfront. "So he is, but Harry’s a trained agent. He can wait."

"What do you mean he can wait?” Eggsy spits, the fury rising back up in him like the tide. He shoves Merlin back a step and his lip curls into a snarl. He thrusts a finger accusingly at the cell door as if that’ll sway the stone look on Merlin’s face. “Harry's alive and he fucking _needs us_ and you want to just carry on? Whatever happened to teamwork and watching out for one another. If his heat’s been triggered don't it mean it’s been building since London? He must be going out of his fucking mind in there."

"Oh," Merlin says, taken aback. And then repeats himself with a widening of his eyes as if he's just unraveled some great mystery of the universe. "That important to you is it," he adds, gently.

"What the fuck do you mean by that," he asks, as red bleeds into his vision. Being talked down to gets Eggsy's hackles up something fierce. "You think you want him more? You think you should have him ‘cause what-- You’ve fucked him loads of times or ‘cause I ain’t from good breeding?"

Blood pounds in his ears, a violent thudding rush. Merlin is older, slower, and been out of the field for some time. Eggsy’s just killed dozens of fighters and at least one other Alpha. He can take out this one too.

"Calm down and focus," Merlin cautions and smacks Eggsy across the face again. His cheek still sore from the last, it brings him round a bit, eases him away from that raw, feral edge enough to feel a touch of shame when Merlin’s finger jabs into his chest and he says, "I may have slept with the man more than once but I've never held any claim over Harry Hart and you know it. If I did, or had the notion that I did, don’t you think I’d be standing here with my teeth bared, spoiling for a fight?"

Eggsy’s mustering an apology when a light knock comes from the other side of the door. He reaches for the handle of the slot.

“Don’t,” Merlin snaps.

"You'll have to fucking shoot me.”

Merlin looks like he's giving it serious thought before he swears a streak and gestures at the bolt. "May I?" he says, and gently but firmly urges Eggsy back to arms length. 

Steeling himself, Merlin opens the viewing slot. He remains stoic but Eggsy can’t stop the whine that leaks through his teeth at the warm push of air that newly escapes the cell.

“Will the two of you kindly stop arguing,” Harry says, voice an impossibly mild purr. “The world’s been saved, I gather. Merlin, get off your high fucking horse, unlock the door, and let Eggsy knot me.”

“I don’t think that's wise, Harry,” Merlin says, but the edges of his restraint begin to visibly fray, his mouth parting as his breath thins into shallow sips of heat-thick air. Eggsy can see his pulse jumping beneath his jaw. He’s near fixated on Harry, and it makes it almost too easy for Eggsy to nick the computer from his bag. “There are two of us, you’re in the throes, and--”

Harry’s fingers appear at the slot gleaming wet and beckoning. Merlin’s fist lands with a meaty thud against the door and a rumbling snarl threads through Merlin’s renewed and inventive cursing. The sound goes right to Eggsy's balls. He stays on mission though, forebrain and hindbrain working in sync knowing that the quickest way into the cell is through the system.

“Isn’t it fortunate that I’ve got more than one hole and the both of you are so very fond of me,” Harry says, as Merlin’s tongue curls across his knuckles. “Have that lock yet, Eggsy?”

“Almost.”

Having licked Harry's fingers clean, an anguished sound ripples out of Merlin’s throat. “Fond of you, Jesus Christ. The lad’s a little more than simply sweet on you.” His eyes go heavy-lidded and any further choice words get drowned by a moan when Harry's wrist rubs across his jaw. He licks the point of a tooth as Harry willfully takes his scent. “You two-- Oh, the two of you bastards deserve one another.”

“I’ve often felt that I deserve a great deal,” Harry says, as the lock releases with a satisfying metal clunk. “But this is a start.”

Harry strips off his shirt with brutal efficiency as Eggsy and Merlin jockey to be first through the door. The sight of him like this might be familiar to Merlin but to Eggsy it's a hell of a lot to process. Harry’s built lean like a hound, trim hips and waist, shoulders that aren’t so much broad as they are boxy. A bit more muscle to him and he'd look disproportionate, a little less and he’d seem gaunt. As is he's perfectly proportionate and the most gorgeous man Eggsy's ever laid eyes on.

Instinct makes him keep pace with Merlin, to not miss a step as Merlin's gun clatters to the floor beside the fallen heap of Harry's shirt. "I want to watch him fuck you," Merlin says, as Harry turns around to catch Merlin's face and frame it between his wide hands.

Honestly, even if his baser functions want to rebel at the idea of another Alpha even being in the room, Eggsy'd been thinking roughly the same thing. Harry and Merlin look astonishingly good together, almost a matched set, similar height, similar build, but Merlin's got the usual breadth of Alpha in his shoulders and the way Harry bends against him is straight up obscene.

"Eggsy, kindly remove your clothes and get on the bed," Harry says. He doesn't look away from Merlin as he speaks and those baser functions knife jealousy into Eggsy’s chest. He curls his hands to fists. He should drag Merlin away from Harry, because the twisting ache sinking into his guts insists it should be _his_ face warmed by Harry's smooth palms--

But no matter what everyone says about being raised in council housing, he isn't a goddamn animal. With determination Eggsy straightens up and removes his glasses, folding them in his hand.

Harry murmurs a thank you and Eggsy flushes as he peels off his suit. The surge of blood heating his ears races against the hot surge making his dick jump. Whatever he thought was going to happen with the both of them in the room here with Harry, it’s nothing like what unfolds around him. Two Alphas with a single Omega in heat just doesn’t happen without a bit of blood and brawling involved. Or at least, not in Eggsy’s experience, and porn doesn't count.

Eggsy kicks his ankle free of his boxers as he scoots to the center of the bed, falling back on his elbows to watch as Merlin guides Harry to lean against him back to front. Harry moves like a dancer, the graceful pivot leaving him gazing directly at Eggsy. Eggsy realizes that Merlin’s putting Harry on display and, with a slight dip of his head signals that he's doing it for Eggsy’s benefit. Eggsy watches awestruck as Merlin's hands slide down Harry's front to flatten near the base of his cock. Nipping at Harry's neck, Merlin leaves a scatter of bright pink marks on the pale of his skin, and Eggsy follows from one to the next, his mouth growing wetter at the thought of licking each one until Harry smells of his spit.

"I'm going to die," Eggsy says when a fresh trickle of heatwet runs thick and glistening down the inside of Harry's leg.

"Don't be so dramatic," Merlin murmurs, his face buried now against the slope of Harry's neck. The flex of muscle in his arm says that the hand he's got curving between Harry's legs are working up inside him "You'll want him nice and loose if you want to knot. ...Oh, Harry, you're not the least bit tight at all. Been fisting yourself to get the edge off, have you?"

"One does what one--ohhh, what one must." Harry shudders, and there's a string of precome drooling from the tip of his cock now too. Eggsy’s belly trembles, his thoughts drifting away from Harry with fingers crammed desperately in his front hole to picturing Harry coming over to him, that same focused determination put to shoving his legs wide and fucking into him, of having Harry's teeth on his throat. Having Harry's fist vise around his knot as he allows Eggsy to come all over the both of them.

He's stiff as steel and already swelling when Merlin releases Harry and sends him over, the smell of Harry's heat infused so thoroughly in the air that when he puts one knee on the bed there's only a tingle of excitement, a sizzle of nerves, no further chemical rush with Eggsy's blood already risen to its peak. "What if I hurt you?" Eggsy says, panicking a little as he grips his cock and tries to keep his knot from growing even bigger.

"Trust me," Harry says, and lays a hand on Eggsy's shoulder just as he had in the pub. Just as Merlin had on the plane. Only this time the grip doesn't ease and pull away; Harry's hold tightens and he urges Eggsy to lay flat on his back, peel his hand off his dick, and stay there. Harry swings a leg over and rubs against him, slicking Eggsy's cock and belly wet in one go.

With another roll of his hips, Harry settles himself at just the right angle for Eggsy to push inside. It’s slippery hot and perfect, and Eggsy struggles to get enough purchase to lift himself further, to fuck in deeper as the palm pressed high on his chest keeps his shoulders pinned remarkably well. Arms at his sides and knees splaying, he feels like he’s on display, and with the way Harry looks at him, a strangely affectionate hunger, it turns Eggsy’s belly to curl in on itself, tingling.

“He’s going to get too thick to tie you,” Merlin cautions, and over Harry’s shoulder Eggsy can see him undressing. Testament to the level of focus he’s regained, he folds and places the pilot’s uniform neatly on the low stone table instead of discarding it forgotten on the floor.

“He ain’t kidding,” Eggsy says, gripping Harry’s thighs in desperation. He’s only half in, if that, and the shift in Harry's expression isn’t helping him calm down any. His knot must nearly be the size of his wrist by now, nudging up against the wet clench of Harry’s hole.

The affection is still there in the shape of Harry’s mouth, but the hunger is sharper, like now that he's got a bit of dick in him he's busy making some kind of mental catalog of how hard Eggsy has to bite his own cheek to keep from bucking his hips and snarling with frustration. Harry sure as hell ain't the needy type, at least not the sort that Eggsy’s familiar with. Harry's got him pinned in place to where Eggsy can't manage more than a twitch, a feeble attempt at fucking that can't hope to force his knot inside where it'll be free to seat and thicken fully, to swell up and keep Harry with him like this for hours on hours.

And then after what feels like ages it happens, the pure molten bliss that turns his would-be snarl into a rising petulant whine: Harry pitches forward when Merlin settles behind him and the angle changes everything. Just like that, Harry takes him whole, dripping cunt swallowing the full length of his cock and the fat bulge of his knot, and the sweetly perfect clench that seizes up and grips him at the hilt steals the last of his breath.

“Oh you beautiful boy,” Harry says, a whisper of words that tickles against Eggsy’s parted mouth. 

“Fuck,” Eggsy replies, the most coherent thing he can manage. With Harry nosing his forehead and the rise of his cheek, he’s overwhelmed. He wants to claim Harry's mouth, rub his face across the sweep of Harry's collarbones and mark him up. Then there's a hand on his knee that isn't Harry's and the wet filthy sound of Merlin’s cock slapping against skin sends a jolt through him like it’d struck him and not Harry.

He hadn't thought it possible to be any more turned on, but every nerve is a live wire, electric shocks rocketing up his spine at the slightest movement. He’s hyper aware of every bit of skin that Merlin touches as he settles into place.

Harry’s scent ripens as he tries to present for Merlin, the clovelike sweetness giving way to something peppery and sharp. It overtakes everything else, even Merlin's scent, and Eggsy feels Harry shudder inside and out. A hesitant moan that's more a sigh than anything follows and then Eggsy feels the scrape of teeth at his neck before Harry fucking bites him.

He's bent forward with his front hole stuffed and his arse up and still Harry bites like a goddamn Alpha: A hard clamp to Eggsy’s left trap that triggers pain and euphoria, Harry's lower canines hitting the nerve cluster that’d trigger the exchange of bonding pheromones if this were the right way around. Eggsy yelps and clutches at the sheets.

“You're toying with the lad,” Merlin says. He grunts as his fingers find their way deep into Harry. His knuckles brush through thin inner walls against the hard swell of Eggsy’s knot and that’s _it_. Harry's orgasm hasn't even hit, but this is close enough that it's like tripping a switch: the first hard spurt of come a surprise that pulls a gasp out of Eggsy before the flood starts and leaves him abandoning his grip at the bedding to cling desperately to Harry's back.

Harry only bites harder, indent of teeth matching the insistent needy drag of Eggsy’s nails on his skin. They’re going to be a sight after this, a rainbow of welts and markings, and Merlin-- Fuck, but Merlin hadn't even had a proper go yet. Eggsy squirms, trying to touch more of Harry without breaking the bite, weirdly turned on when Harry’s hand threads through his hair and he can smell Merlin’s scent again warm on Harry's wrist.

Then there's the drag of Harry’s tongue over the ache of the bite, a wide soothing lick that travels up along his neck to his jaw. Harry makes a soft, pleased growl as he rubs against Eggsy, takes his scent too, blends it with Merlin's and it’s altogether too much. Too fucking much. Eggsy’s mouth drops open, panting heavily, desperate to get his own teeth on Harry’s skin, to bite him _there_ , but Harry’s forearms keep him pinned, and then comes the nudge of Merlin's dripping prick at his balls, rubbing at the base of him where he's plugging Harry full of cock and come. 

Eggsy whines through his teeth as Merlin eases into Harry, the rock hard push of his cock rubbing along the whole of Eggsy's. The dragging pressure of the head of Merlin's cock is unmistakable even through the slick wall of Harry's insides that separates them.

It's like he can feel each vein thick along the length, and each thrust rubs Eggsy's knot, milking more and more come out of him, until even the hot clench of Harry's hole can't keep it all in. The mess leaks down between Eggsy's thighs, smell of semen and heatwet mixing until finally Merlin gives up on fucking for friction. He wraps a hand over Harry's shoulder for purchase, grinding hard and forcing in the heavy swell of his knot. Harry shudders at the new stretch, his breath rushing hard against Eggsy's neck. It takes forever until Merlin's seated in so deeply that Harry’s squirming between them turns to a boneless shudder and the waves of his orgasm wash into his scent.

Eggsy keens as he feels the hard throb of Merlin coming like it's filling him up too. And Harry-- Oh, Harry makes a sound Eggsy won't ever forget: a grateful, breathy moan that sputters into a growling, satisfied purr.

Harry raises up as best he can, and Eggsy turns his head to where the heel of Harry's hand digs against his shoulder. He delivers a lick there, a questioning nip before he sinks his teeth just above the delicate jut of Harry's wristbone. The salt taste of Harry's sweat brings with it the echo of Merlin's scent and Eggsy bites again, sucking Harry's skin clean. Harry makes a softly keening sound and calls him lovely.

“Just let him do it,” Merlin gasps out, holding to Harry to keep the tie from pulling Harry along with him as he sits back on his heels. Still, Harry follows anyway, drawing away from Eggsy, his spine curving back and exposing the whole of his chest just begging to be marked. “For fuck’s sake clearly you both want it.”

“The boy’s too fucking young,” Harry snarls. He twists to get more skin to skin contact, but Merlin denies him the full press of chest and tightens his hold to keep him from folding back down to lie against Eggsy. The squeeze of Harry’s thighs meanwhile, manages to keep Eggsy from following him even partway up. “Amongst other things.”

“The “boy” is also right here and not hard of hearing,” Eggsy snaps, just as desperate as Harry to restore that lost contact. When he’d wondered what Harry was like in the throes, frustratingly lucid hadn’t fit into his fantasies. “Harry, please, just let me. I know what I want.”

“Don’t be stupid. I’m tied to both of you right now, what makes either of you want to risk a bite.”

Merlin drops his forehead to Harry’s shoulder as the squirming milks another pulsing flood of come out of him. Harry’s cock twitches in response, the heavy weight of it still fully hard as it smacks down against Eggsy’s belly.

“If you don’t want to bond with me now, that just means I’m going to have to court you,” Eggsy says. “Flowers, chocolates, bit of wine.”

Merlin eases his grip and chuckles, while Harry seems less amused. Eggsy approximates a shrug. “Besides, I might surprise you, you know,” he says, and his insides quiver as he slides a hand down his front, down past the slick pools of wet and come that Harry’s left on him.

He's taking a risk, but it feels like the right one. There’s no friction at all as he wriggles his fingers under the press of Harry’s weight, behind his bollocks and across the soft wet folds of his front hole and then, with a bit of twisting, to the tight stretch of where he’s got Merlin seated in him.

He’s leaking there too, Merlin’s come oozing out of him whenever muscle flutters and gives. “I might not care if there are two of us here,” Eggsy says, pulling his hand back, slicked past the wrist with the mix of his own come and Merlin’s and Harry's gleaming heatwet. “A gentleman overrides his baser instincts, right? It's what good manners are for. Besides I get the feeling Merlin might not much care either.”

Eggsy licks the mess clean from wrist to fingertip, licks every fucking drop up and swallows it until the taste coats his whole mouth. Harry watches rapt, his scent changing again, a brighter edge coming into it that makes Merlin jerk and raise his head, a keenly predatory look in his eye.

“Compromise, innit? Or are you gonna pretend you don't want him too? It ain't unheard of.”

Eggsy grabs Merlin's arm and he can feel the surge of Merlin's knot the moment he sucks two of Merlin's fingers deep into his mouth. He nearly goes crosseyed when Harry rocks against him, the pull on his own knot flirting at the edge of pleasure and pain.

“There’s simply no protocol for this in Kingsman,” Merlin attempts, words hollow as he remains mesmerized by the flex of Eggsy's tongue on his fingers.

Eggsy pulls off to suggest writing new protocols before he nuzzles at Merlin's hand and bites at the pad of Merlin's thumb.

“Practical,” Harry murmurs, and seems about to say more until Merlin's other hand comes up to wrap over his chin and push fingers in past his lips.

“You want us, don't you Harry?” Eggsy asks. “Both of us.”

Harry moans a yes around the fingers occupying his mouth. Says it clearly when Merlin removes his hand to hear him repeat it. Harry's mouth stays open as he twists and chases the promise of keeping all his holes filled.

“You greedy tart,” Merlin mutters, voice tinged with awe.

“Hurry up and do it before I change my mind,” Harry says, head tipping to the side to expose the slope of his neck beautifully.

Eggsy watches in a daze as Merlin grips him by the hair and guides him down. Somehow having the control to just offer Harry up like a gift.

Eggsy's teeth itch, his mouth so full of spit he's nearly drooling.

“Me first,” Merlin says at the last moment. Eggsy's eyes go wide, but it's a tease of a bite, no more than a light scrape of teeth that doesn't even leave a mark. Merlin tongues the spot and releases Harry, reaching instead to where Harry’s teeth had left a perfect crescent on Eggsy's skin, the ache forgotten until Merlin's thumb brushes over the fading indents.

Eggsy can't look away from Merlin as he shows teeth and digs in his thumb, triggers the same pain and pleasure that Harry had. A low throb at the base of his cock makes him shudder, nothing left to give but the slack shape of his mouth as Harry turns to lick across Merlin's knuckle. Across the echo of his bite.

“Now,” Harry murmurs, pressing kisses into Eggsy's skin. A deep snarl builds up in his chest, the sound thrumming into Eggsy between each light kiss until the moment Eggsy's teeth sink into him, the hard clamp of the bite radiating through his body like a shockwave.

Eggsy tenses up, near breaking skin he's biting Harry so hard. From the corner of his eye he can see Merlin's teeth on his lip, turning it white, waiting too for the flood to hit the air, the hot tang of bonding pheromones. Eggsy's not exactly sure what it should taste like--feel like, smell like--but it has to be a little more of…well, _something_.

“Shit,” Harry says delicately.

“Let me try,” Merlin suggests.

After a moment Eggsy reluctantly disengages, the mark left behind a bright and angry red. Merlin noses at Harry until he tips his head the other way, exposing the opposite slope of his neck, the unmarred skin that hides a second bonding node. Usually it matches whichever side is the Omegas dominant hand, but Harry wasn’t precisely the usual.

He yelps when Merlin bites with no pretense or foreplay, just the solid meeting of teeth and flesh. Eggsy looks on hopefully, tasting the air for the promise of anything that isn't the funk of spent jizz and Harry's mellowing heat.

“Berlin,” Harry says, after a few ticks. He lets out a sigh on a puff of breath and wriggles to spread his ridiculously long legs out a little further. His weight settles more firmly on Eggsy.

“Berlin,” Merlin repeats, defeat in his tone. He slumps forward, adding his weight to Harry's.

“Berlin?” Eggsy asks, the one word about all he can manage with a million stone crushing him into the mattress. He's not complaining though, not really. Not when both Harry and Merlin have begun idly petting at him where they can reach. He might not mind staying here forever if they keep at it.

“I took a bit of shrapnel,” Harry explains. “It didn't occur to me that it might interfere with bonding. I never thought to ask.”

Eggsy can feel Merlin’s groan, and the effort it takes him not to start swearing. “Of course you didn’t.”

“Well I hadn’t planned on finding myself a mate. And you’d never shown any serious interest before.”

Merlin rolls his eyes and looks like he wishes he weren’t tied to Harry. After a long while, Eggsy hears his breath cut short, and the smell of satiated lust gets tainted with an uneasy coppery scent.

“Mmmn?” Eggsy can’t quite turn the noise into a full-on question, but he cracks an eye open. Harry’s busy stroking the hair at his temples though, so he doesn’t really bother focusing on anything other than the soft, rhythmic tug.

“Harry,” Merlin says, with a sort of resignation that says he already knows the answer to the question he’s about to ask.

“Yes, darling?”

“Please tell me that after you completed your shots, you remembered to take your birth control.”


End file.
